


Vengodlors

by 6Writers1Trenchcoat



Category: Just Roll With It (Podcast)
Genre: AU, Collab
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:08:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23886481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6Writers1Trenchcoat/pseuds/6Writers1Trenchcoat
Summary: An au in which Br’aad and Sylnan are deities, and the patrons of Ob’nockshai and Katherine, who are adopted siblings. It makes more sense once you read it.This has been moved from sleepy_stitches profile (go check them out) to here, and will continue (hopefully) to be updated.
Kudos: 22





	1. Markings and Mishaps

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!

Katherine walked into the room confidently, searching for her brother. He was in the library, as always, reading some book or another, something boring Kath could never find the time for. 

“Ob. Hey, Ob.” Kath gently tugged at a lock of long, auburn hair, pulling Ob’nock's attention towards her. “You’ll never guess what I just did.”

“What?! What am I cleaning up now?” Kath’s face fell a little, hurt that his first thought was she’d done something wrong. She let go of his hair, and pouted. “Why is one of your eyes purple now?”

“You don’t have to clean up anything. I’ve done something good this time Ob, I swear. Here, look.” Katherine held up a hand, silently praying something happened. To both the Shai siblings' shock, a large glowing orb appeared in Katherine’s hand. 

The orb was no bigger than her palm, but it emitted a calm, blue light, pulsing gently. Kath grinned, nudging her brother to ensure he was watching. Ob’nock let out a small gasp, and he reached out, almost as if to touch it, before quickly drawing his hand away. 

“How did you do that?! What did you do to do that?!” Katherine waved her hand, dispelling the magic and then tapped Ob’s nose, causing him to flinch. 

“Well, this hot guy just like, popped into my room, and was like, ‘Hey, I can give you magic powers, but in return you gotta go on a date with me’. Look, Ob, you know me, I’m not one to turn down a hot guy, and this guy was pretty cute. And also he turned my eye purple, something about patrons leaving marks or something.” 

“What was this guy’s name? Kath, for the love of all that is holy, please tell me you know his name.” As Kath squinted, thinking, Ob sighed. She perked up quickly though, smiling again. 

“He says his name is Sylnan. He can also speak into my mind, so that’s cool.” Ob’nock pinched his nose, and muttered to himself, repeating the name to himself over and over. He stood up, beginning to pull books off the shelves around him, clearly searching for something. 

“Sylnan, Sylnan, where have I heard that? Kath, ask lover boy if he has family-” 

“He says yes, they’re also deities or whatever-” Kath looked at Ob, who had the appearance of a madman, rapidly pulling books off of shelves and shoving them back in. “Ob, what exactly are you looking for?”

“Ah, here it is!” Ignoring Katherine completely, he pulled an ancient looking book from way too high above him, flipping through it carefully. “Two can play at that game, it’s my turn to get one…” Ob trailed off, peering at the foreign text. 

“What? A boyfriend?” Kath giggled at her own joke, frowning when Ob didn’t respond. “Alright then, I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to make me some lunch!” With that, Katherine skipped out the door, heading down to the kitchen.

_ A few hours of going through notes later _

The pages were crisp under the delicate touch of someone who had handled precious, ancient books for years. The writing on the cracked spine was barely legible, being written in some old language, forgotten by most of the world.

He brushed aside a strand of his auburn hair that had come loose from its tie as he read over the instructions in the book a final time, just to be certain that he had done everything correctly. It had taken him months to translate the ancient runes, but he had finally managed to find a use for them, and now he would be rewarded for all of his hard work. 

He took a careful 20 minutes to draw the rune in chalk on his mahogany floor. He was slightly annoyed that the ritual called for the rune to be drawn on a strong, solid surface, it meant that he was effectively ruining his expensive flooring.

Ob’nock Shai was a man of precise habits, so he spent another 5 minutes checking, double checking,  _ triple checking _ the rune to make sure it was perfect, when he heard a loud CRASH! ring out from the kitchen. The sudden noise made him curse as he jumped, knocking some of his precious paperwork off of his desk and onto the floor. Ob’nock regained his composure and picked up the scattered papers, setting them back on the table.

He took in a deep breath, and began to chant the ancient phrase that he had committed to memory for the ritual...

A whirl of flashy green and bright sparks flared up from the ground where Ob'nock Shai had drawn the rune. It burst forward, licking at his heels like flames trying to pull more substance into its greedy grasp. Ob'nock stumbled to his feet, preparing to be in the presence of a proud and mighty God. And with a flash of light, he was consumed by the swirling mass of concentrated magic.

He inhaled sharply, air forcing itself into his lungs. A white flash of pain shot through the back of his skull, static ringing in his ear. Ob eventually found the strength to open his eyes and was at first greeted by a blank nothing. Rolling his head to the side, there was only a vast expanse of white that spread into the unseeable distance. He looked back to the empty sky only to feel his heart stop. Two bright green eyes and a wide Cheshire smile looked back at him.

"Hiya!"

Ob'nock shot up, bashing his head into the other's face out of shock. He scrambled forward in a desperate attempt to put distance between them. When he whipped back around to confront this attacker, he found the scraggly young blond unaffected and unbothered. Ob tried and failed to bury his apparent panic as he began berating the go-lucky stranger with questions," Who are you? Where am I? What did you-!"

"Phhbt- ha!" That high, grating voice rang out again as he laughed at him. "That's a goofy question! You summoned me dumby, wow, you must'a hit your head real hard. Oh well, my name's Br'aad!"

The auburn-haired man sat there frozen as a hand was offered to him to shake. The reality of his situation, which minutes before had seemed floaty and dreamlike, was now hitting him hard. It was now that he noted the details of the man before him: the long free-flowing dirty blond hair that ran well down his back, the simple loose-fitting button-up that only served to make him appear more childish, the- he wasn't wearing any pants. Ob found himself increasingly aggravated. He was looking for a being of power, someone with ultimate control, not some boy.

"No, you- you can't be…"

Thin brows arched into a curious expression at Ob's statement, confusion painted on the face before him. "Br'aad." He seemed to suddenly understand and then "Oh! I mean… I was caught off guard, so I kinda just threw this together. You're the first to ever call for me, so I wasn't exactly prepared-," he opened his mouth.

Quickly recomposing himself from the vulnerable state, Br'aad lifted his head high and puffed out his chest. "Nevermind!"

Ob’nock stared at the oddly eccentric young God that stood before him, from the tips of his long hair, to his lack of pants, to the points on his shoes.

“So…You just gonna stand there? Or are you gonna give me your conditions?” He asked the man, tilting his head slightly to the left and sticking his tongue out playfully.

“Conditions? I don’t recall reading about any conditions that were needed upon forging a pact.” Ob’nock started to panic. He knew he’d missed a step when he summoned this  _ buffoon  _ instead of Alwyn, but just how much had he not read?

“Pffft! Honestly, you’re way too uptight about this whole process. And of course you wouldn't know about conditions! My mentor said that the best way to mess with people is by throwing in a rule they don’t expect!” Br’aad gestured wildly with his arms as he spoke, before bringing them to a rest clasped together behind his head.

“Basically though, what did you want to gain out of making a pact with me, of all people?” The gods expression turned slightly more serious, though his  _ tongue was still stuck out, and he still had no pants on- _

“I desire power, likely more than you can give. Perhaps I’ve humoured your childish fantasies for too long, you do not seem ready for this kind of responsibility.”

Ob’nock turned to walk away, and then realised that he had no idea how to leave this plane of existence that the God resided in. He heard a faint giggle behind him.

“Having a bit of trouble there?” Br’aad sauntered past him, looking slightly smug. It didn’t suit his face.

“You can’t leave until I let you go, and I’m not letting you go until you’ve made a pact with me.” It was practically sung into Ob’nock’s ear, and he snarled at the sudden derailment of his carefully thought out plan.

“Fine. I’ll make the pact with you, but can you promise me the power I desire?” he was reluctant to allow this inexperienced God to have his soul for… who even knows how much power?

The God let out a low chuckle as he approached Ob’nock, coming to a stop right next to him.

“You made a good choice here today, Ob’nock Shai. I’ll make sure you get all the power you could ever need, and more.” He felt Br’aad pat him on the shoulder, before grabbing it tightly to keep him in place as surprisingly sharp teeth dug straight into his neck. And then everything went black. 

Ob’nock awoke, groaning, grasping at his head. He felt like he had the  _ worst _ hangover as he strained to remember what had happened. He slapped a hand over the base of his neck, wincing at the stinging pain that resonated from the spot where…

_ Br’aad had fucking bitten him. _

A figure was standing over him, looking at him curiously.

“What...happened?” Ob muttered. Kath just grinned, towering over him.

“So you got a boyfriend too now huh?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tea gets spilt.

Ob’nock Shai had never been a people person. Even now, with years of experience in persuading people to like him under his belt, it felt like a chore. Conversing over spirits at some wealthy gathering was a right of passage into the upper class. Socialite events were mandated for a family such as his and served as a means of keeping face. For that, he detested them.

Hypocritical, one might say, for a man so adept at the use of a silver tongue. But there lay the intention of his pact. Ob’nock was very aware that as a mortal his days were numbered very few, and he’d be damned if that meant he’d get satisfaction in his own fleeting existence. He already had money to his name, wealth was undoubtedly not an issue of his family. The purple dyes in his well-fitted attire and painted portraiture around the family estate would attest to such. No, what he needed was power. Power left no room for talking, no need for talking. To the likes of mighty men and possesses of magic, words were nothing more than a toy for them to play with. Such men could take what they wanted and be spared the bartering games of charms and pleasantries. And what a game, what a wager to make himself the fool of.

When one speaks of gods, they do not imagine some impish youth, an entity of frivolous chaos. Yet he found himself bound to what he knew no better than to be a childish man claiming to be a god. His reputation with the likes of Jaqout was doomed, and he would be lucky if the devout men of faith among the king's court did not demand to see him hang. Oh, what a miserable fool he'd been to follow his sister's example. Unlike Kathrine, moments where he rushed to decisions were few and far between, and if he wasn’t cautious, it could quickly become the decision to end all decisions.

These were the passing thoughts of the auburn-haired man as he pinched the bridge of his nose, staring at the hole he’d blasted into the marble countertop that would now have to be replaced. A simple spell that should have conjured a small flame at his fingertips had instead manifested as a flash of eldritch energy, a bright display of green and yellow light ribboning together. If not for the disaster that remained of the counter space, Ob’nock might have found the spectacle of it beautiful. Instead, his head splintered. What should have been a quick trip to the kitchen to make some tea turned into a disaster that consumed the better part of an hour.

In no mood to clean up any further, he took his tea and retreated to his study, saying a silent prayer of thanks that Kathrine was not to be seen. Beloved sister or not, Ob didn’t think he could have handled her high energy in his current state. Scaling the stairs with their golden railing and following the intricate red rug that ran down the hall lead him to the threshold he sought to cross. Above it, and in his way stood a proud set of heavy mahogany doors, the family crest carved into their center. With his empty hand he swung it open and shut it behind himself. 

He breathed a sigh of relief, nerves set at least slightly at ease now that he was in his own private sanctuary. Sitting down at his desk, he allowed himself to relish the warm smell of earl grey and finally enjoy his drink. Even here, though, there was a present reminder. Ob looked around the study, scorched leather bindings and pages strewn about from the last mishap he’d still yet to clean. It seemed like whenever he wanted to summon this sort of destructive potential, it refused to come, but the moment his guard was down while performing some mundane magic, it would attempt to tear the very house apart. Tidying this mess would be the next headache for the weary man to tackle.

“What did I ever do to deserve this?”

Even though the question was asked to no one, he almost expected a response. It would be no surprise to him if fate would choose to mock him with another catastrophe, and from what he could tell, Br’aad had no concept of the rhetorical. For the god to suddenly appear with a fast response would be all but too fitting for today. Yet, his patron was silent and unseen, almost as if refusing to show when expected. The blond had a habit of appearing at the most inopportune moments, similar to the magic he shared. At least that aspect of his chaotic acquaintance was almost predictable. 

Nevertheless, he set himself to tidying the mess he’d made. The study had needed a good cleanout for some time now. Old bobbles and bits placed here for storage cluttered the many shelves around him, leaving less room for actual books. Ob’nock kept most of his collection estate library because of this, too busy at the time to be bothered with moving it in favor of his own collection. Instead, he’d grown used to trekking downstairs and collecting what he needed. The small selection prevented him from going from book to book but also kept his mind more focused. Strangely enough, he found several picture books, likely lying forgotten here since Ob and Kath were small children. By the time he’d cleaned the room (aside from the things he’d have to pay someone to fix) he had collected a small crate’s worth of such books. If their presence had been known he would have long since thrown them out. 

Arms crossed with one hand pulling on a strand of his auburn-hair, he debated what to do with them. There was always the option of forking them off to an old pawn shop. A charitable donation to an orphanage would likely do just as well, not worth anything in a monetary sense but always good for the family’s public image. Briefly, he pondered if asking Kathrine, but he quickly convinced himself against it. His father had left him in charge of the estate for a good reason. Knowing his sister, she’d insist on keeping this worthless clutter. He honestly didn’t care if he received anything in return for these dusty old books as long as he never saw them again. It was then that an idea struck him.

Who better to give a bunch of worthless old storybooks than the naive god that insisted upon pestering him for his own entertainment. Instead of hauling Ob off to whatever empty pocket Br’aad seemed to reside in or constantly distracting the man to learn about mortal life, he could entertain himself with picture books. It was perfect. The only issue would be if his patron would actually come. This would certainly mark the first time Ob’nock ever sought him out instead of the man just appearing. Unsure how to call the attention of a god, he tried to simply summon him through willing him to appear. When this went without response, he settled for a new angle.

“Br’aad, I know you can hear me.” He clenched his teeth, already regretting what he was about to say, but attempted to soften his tone with some semblance of charm,” I would like an audience with you.”

For a long moment, there was nothing. The clouds passed slowly outside the study's large glass window, time undisturbed in its flow. The pleasant expression he had been wearing to try and coax the god from hiding faltered, frustration quickly overwhelming his facade. It was that very moment though that the high pitched humming so tale-tell of his patron’s appearance sung in the back of his skull. If Ob thought Br’aad’s voice was annoying, then the sound of whatever mauled, broken flute his patron loved so much was near deafening. This didn’t exactly make him elated to hear that piercing voice just moments after though. 

“You raaang~?”

Gods only know Ob’nock struggled to hold back his knee jerk reaction to scoff as his patron practically sang in greeting. There in his study now stood the entity choosing to appear as a half-elf, long blond locks flowing over his shoulders and down his back, swaying as he bounced restlessly on the tip of his toes. If it weren’t for his stature, Ob would think this great old deity was attempting to look like a small child, the white button-up he wore practically swallowing him and his feat bear on the cold wood floor. The most egregious thing by far though what that he still refused to wear pants, which is apparently because he just ‘doesn’t like pants,’ though the auburn-haired man isn’t sure he believes that.

“You seem to be highly..,” Ob paused momentarily, searching for the most flattering way to word what he wanted to say.” ..curious about mortal life, considering you pester me so frequently on the subject.”

He cleared his throat momentarily, before pushing the box of small books that now sat upon his desk towards Br’aad, “So these are for you. Consider it an offering. This way, you can learn as much as you like whenever you like.” ‘And not bother me,’ Ob thought but refrained himself from adding.

  
Ob’nock played it as nonchalantly as he could, looking off to the side in the case Br’aad saw through his well-crafted words, but knowing Br’aad, it was unlikely he’d doubt what Ob had said for a moment. The young god was quick to accept anything he was told, never for a moment doubting anything Ob said. For a being typically expected to hold omnipotence, he was unbelievably naive. When he finally looked to see what Br’aad thought, he saw nothing but boyish wonder and excitement painted on his face before the blond sprang forward to dig his greedy hands into the box of colorful books. 

At this Ob found himself confident and satisfied,”You’ll of course have to take them back to wherever it is you spend your time, but I don’t doubt you can manage that.” 

He watched as Br’aad pulled out a large book with a largely beige and plane cover, aside from a small illustration of two rabbits on its face, one big one small. Ob was even more puzzled when the blond promptly plopped onto the floor right in front of where he was standing beside his desk-chair. He started to think Br’aad didn’t hear him and opened his mouth to try and emphasize the fact that these were for the god to take to his own realm, only to be cut short when Br’aad held the storybook up to him with expectant eyes. 

The human frowned down at the book he was presented, unable to stop himself from scoffing at the gesture,”You want me to take it? What do you expect me to do with it exactly? Read it to you like one would for a toddler?”

“Yes, actually,” Br’aad smiled in response. 

“You’re a god, I’m absolutely certain you know how to read.”

“I do!” His patron continued to hold out the book to him all the same, if anything only wiggling his arm more insistently, “But I want you to read it with me.”

Ob'nock snatched it from his hand and held it in front of himself. His frown deepened as he found himself recalling the title of it, 'Guess How Much I Love You.' Ob found he could keenly remember memories of his mother reading this book while his father loomed in the doorway like a shadow. Nights like that were before Kathrine had come to join their family. Reluctantly he resigned himself to sit in his chair, knowing well from Br'aad's games that he wouldn't leave until Ob participated. At least this was a short children's book, it could always be worse. It certainly was far from exciting, a small rabbit telling his mother he loved her and she stating how much more she loved him. It was cute in concept, but the paper was tinged by a bleak childhood that had worn down the pages to a fragile state. It only took minutes for the book to be shut again and left to sit in his lap as he waited to see if Br' aad would be satisfied or would insist upon him reading another until he'd read the whole box.

Instead, Br'aad was silent, alarmingly so. Ob almost believed the god had left until he looked up to see him still sitting cross-legged in front of him, eyes trained to the floor as anxious fingers fiddled with the loose fabric of his shirt.

"Hey, Ob, what.. what were your parents like?"

"My parents?" Ob'nock found himself surprised by such a serious question and a sullen tone. He paused, taking a moment to think before answering. It felt as if it were so long ago now. "I suppose... My mother was very similar to my sister. Certainly less loud but, she was always smiling, not to mention clever. My father was a stoic man, with a large concern for appearances. He believed how a man presented himself was important, that to carry yourself with dignity and act with responsibility were the utmost vital qualities of a man."

Br’aad gave a weak laugh through his nose, head still hanging as he sat there hugging himself, leading the auburn haired man to raise a brow at his behavior, “What is it?”

“Nothing! Just.. your old man sounds a lot like you.”

“Hmm well, I don’t know if I’d say that.” Ob could tell there was still something Br’aad wasn’t saying, and until the blond said it he wasn’t leaving. With an elbow propped on his desk, the man rest his chin in his hand and begrudgingly asked the question,” And what about yours?” 

“W-what do you mean? You mean my-?” 

The warlock narrowed his eyes at his patron, waiting for him to connect the dots on his own. It took a minute before the look of shocked realization finally dawned his features. What confused Ob was the fact he didn’t immediately start bubbling at the chance to talk, instead casting hesitant glances to the side as if unsure of himself. The god eventually swallowed the lump in his throat though and proceeded to open the floodgates. “Alywn, my dad- well.. He’s not really my dad per say, like I wasn’t born but… he made me? Anyways, not the point! He, umm...” 

  
“Spit it out already would you,” Ob snapped, surprising both himself and the blond. 

Br’aad seemed to grow a bit more frantic at this, but the man didn’t apologize, instead just holding his tongue as he allowed him to continue speaking. “I guess I just, he’s never really taken me seriously… I’ve always just kinda been his creation. I felt so smothered all the time and I wasn’t able to come and go as I pleased. What a pitiful excuse for a god I make, huh?” He gave an almost defeated chuckle as he began wringing the loose bits of his shirt around his fingers again. “There’s actually- I’ve been meaning to talk to you about um… how do I say this?” Ob adjusted himself to sit upright in his chair as he watched Br’aad struggle, attentive as he continued. 

“He doesn’t like that I’m kinda my own god now… he  _ really _ doesn’t like you. I'm not going to let anything happen to you of course!! But, you might be in an incy wincy tiny bit of danger?”

Br’aad winced up at him with a nervous smile as he waited for the response. Ob remained silent though, as he processed emotion after emotion washed over his face. When he finally spoke, he stood to his feet and coughed out in a hysterical tone, a laugh that quickly shifted to a bark. “Great. That's just great! That’s exactly what I need is for- for some- deity from before time itself to want me dead!!”

“Ob, I’m sorry I-”

Books crashed to the floor as Ob’nock flipped the desk onto the floor in his fury,“Sorry? What are you sorry for?” He stepped forward; a finger pointed at his patron, who quickly jumped up to move back. “You said it yourself. You’re your own man- god now. While my life goes to shit, you get exactly what you wanted! So why do you even care?”

“Because I-! I thought we could be friends…”

  
“Friends,” Ob scoffed at the so-called god’s whispering statement. He fell back into his chair, shoulders sunken and defeated. His cleanly styled auburn-hair was quickly disheveled as he ran his fingers through it angrily. The room was devoid of sound, and when he looked up, he realized Br’aad was gone, and the light had begun to dance across the mahogany floors once more. He watched it and momentarily questioned if he’d made a mistake.

Ob was never a man to display his genuine thoughts, let alone be driven to yelling and barking like some kicked dog. How hypocritical of a man who hated wearing a mask to regret such earnest unbridled words. Yet there he sat, the empty feeling that now consumed the room hanging over him. It would only be fitting of his luck that he should anger a god. Ob took a risk, snapping his fingers in an attempt to conjure a small flame. He was surprised to see it appear, that Br’aad had not cut off his magic to spite him. No, he should have known better than such. After all, his patron was not anything like him in that sense. Br’aad was wild and untamed, a storm of pure and honest emotion, but not unashamedly so. Still, here Ob found himself, bound to a god that somehow sought freedom of circumstance just as he.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
